Not So Lucky
by TheSarcasticKnight
Summary: Agents. Russians. Another promise of threatened death? It's another day in the life of Aj Bradshaw. A woman who knows her way around an underground, illegal fighting ring, but who doesn't know how to say no to two questionable agents of SHIELD. Here's to hoping she learns how to be a functional adult.


Howdy, hi my peeps. This is not Lil'Bit I am aware, but I wanted to write a little drabble to just get back into writing Aj's voice. It's been a while after all. If you havent read Small Fry or Lil'Bit then you dont know who Aj is and you'll be a little lost maybe? You just won't pick up on some of the details I dropped.

Probably gonna add a little more, practice a little more, and then we get to Lil'Bit! I'm working y'all I promise hahah!

NOW TO THOSE WHO KNOW AJ! Imagine this is set before Small Fry. She hasn't gone back home to Alabama yet. She's still in New York fighting for Boss and struggling to find herself.

* * *

"I think we consider too much the luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm."

-Franklin D. Roosevelt

* * *

He followed her into the dimly lit hallway with only a slight raise of his eyebrows. The shorter red head in front of him walked with confidence, the shimmery golden mini dress clinging to her hips as she moved.

"Don't stare at my ass, Barton."

Clint groaned and picked up his pace a step so he'd be right next to her. His ribs groaned with every movement, a reminder that his mission last night had been rough. He grinned and ignored the feeling of his half healed busted lip ripping open again, "I know it's your turn to plan date night, but why's it gotta be in some shady nightclub the day after we get back from the worst mission ever?"

"It wasn't a bad mission. You're just upset that it ended with you getting thrown into a dumpster." Natasha smirked back at him. Clint huffed in annoyance. If he had a quarter for every time he ended up in a dumpster for some reason or another, he'd be $1.75 richer. Which granted wasn't a lot of money, but at least he'd get something for all the trouble. He couldn't keep stealing Tony Stark's card for coffee in the morning. Natasha slipped her arm through his, "Besides, this isn't a nightclub or date night. We're on a new mission."

They turned the corner into a madhouse of people cheering as others fought in hand to hand combat. Clint let her drag him along as his eyes took in all the sights. There were caged off areas where two people fought as a crowd gathered around them to cheer and bet money. Unlike the hallway they had just been in, this area was well lit and large.

Large and well organized.

For an underground fighting ring to look like this, it must have had some serious support. Both from someone with a lot of money and someone with a lot of power.

"I don't remember Fury sending us an assignment." Clint mumbled. The noise alone made him want to turn his hearing aids off, but if this was a mission the last thing he wanted to do was leave Natasha without someone fully aware watching her back.

Natasha pulled Clint towards the right where a huge crowd was formed, "Mission's not from Fury. It's more of a…_favor_."

"Favor for who?"

"Steve."

Clint shot her a questioning look that was immediately ignored. He watched as the red head painted a sly smile on her lips, gripped him by the hand, and split the crowd in front of her. All it took was her pressing forward and anyone who tried to argue let the words die on their lips when their eyes landed her form.

Natasha was incredible at laying low and flying below the radar. If she didn't want to be seen then no one was going to set an eye on her. However, she was also very good at attracting and holding attention. The woman had a talent for fitting the mold she needed to fit into.

When they made it to the front Clint's curiosity only grew. They stood at the edge of a shallow hole in the ground, ankle deep at best, where two women fought. It looked like the blonde was winning since her opponent, a smaller brunette, was sprawled on the floor and struggling to rise.

Natasha turned his face toward her and mouthed, _'Recognize the blonde?'_

Her voice would've been drowned out by the crowd, but she apparently didn't want to risk it. He glanced back and narrowed his eyes as the blonde ducked under a punch. It was then that it hit him. She was a SHIELD agent. Samantha, maybe? He couldn't remember her name exactly.

The fight lasted another 30 seconds or so before the agent won. The crowd erupted in cheers, money was passed around, and then people began to disperse to other fights.

"Congrats on the win." Natasha said as the agent came over. She wrapped the sweaty, bruised woman in a dramatic hug. Onlookers would see a hot girl greeting her friend. Any second glance they got would be more focused on Natasha's figure rather than what the two said or did.

"You're right in time for the finale." The agent replied while wiping the blood from her nose on her shirt. She looked to him, "I don't think we've officially met. I'm Sharon."

"Clint." He replied. He hoped that was her actual name and they weren't using pseudonyms otherwise he just fucked up. "Nice hobby you have here."

Sharon smirked and looked back to Natasha, "Our friends are here. Ready to watch the last fight."

Clint passed a glance to Natasha who quickly signed the word 'Russia'. His eyes narrowed in thought then confusion. Russians? They were here for Russians?

"Underground fighting? Russians?" Clint shook his head and lowered his voice, "What kinda favor is this?"

Natasha ignored him entirely, but Sharon was kind enough to at least give him a glance before ignoring him, "Last time I was here, I scoped it out. You should be fine."

"I know. I'm up against the _Soldier_." Sharon rolled her eyes, "The moniker doesn't exactly mean much."

Clint fake gasped, "So you mean she_didn't_serve?"

Both women chuckled at his poor attempt at humor before Sharon walked away to get ready for the next fight. He pulled Natasha close and leaned his forehead against hers. Now they were just two lovebirds enjoying their date night out at a blood soaked illegal basement.

"So what's going on here?"

"There are Russians here looking to find a fighter for their ring back home." Natasha answered. "These Russians are rumored to have some information on a certain _someone_."

Clint didn't need more than three brain cells to figure out who this certain someone associated with shady Russian people were.

James Buchanan Barnes.

_The Winter Soldier_.

Now, the favor made sense. Captain America was desperate to find his long lost best friend and these Russians were now the best lead he had. Who better to get the information for him than an ex-KGB agent turned bestie?

"Did Cap even request my help or am I just a tag along?" Clint smirked.

"It was my turn to plan date night, remember?" Natasha replied, letting the top of her nose brush against his. He chuckled and briefly pressed a kiss against her lips before pulling away to focus on his surroundings.

"We need to focus." Clint spoke before signing the second half_, 'Dealing with Russians is never fun.'_

_'I'm Russian.'_She signed back.

Clint grinned impishly, "Yeah, exactly."

The crowd slowly began to gather around again, and Sharon made her way to the middle of the make shift, concrete ring. An announcer came into the makeshift ring, "_Our newest fighter is trying to make a name for herself here!"_The crowd roared in excitement and Sharon lifted her hand with a nod. The announcer continued, "_But we all know who she's gotta beat in order for that to happen!"_

The crowd across from them began to split and a young woman began to walk through the parted sea of people. She was small, no doubt shorter than 5'5 with a thin, athletic form, but despite her size she waltzed into the ring with a level of confidence Clint usually only saw in people who were in their natural habitat. This woman was a regular here, no doubt. Natasha's head tilted and he noticed Sharon stiffen and spare them a glance. Natasha leaned toward him, "I haven't seen her around. I don't know who she is."

"Small Fry is back, ladies and gentlemen, and she's _hungry_for blood!"

The woman looked worse for wear, like she had been fighting all night long. Her brown hair was braided back and out of the way and she wore a black sports bra that matched her tight, black shorts. Her skin was lightly tanned but scattered with bruises and fresh scrapes. Her eyes were a shade of blue, but there was a fire in them that didn't match the color.

"Small Fry?" Clint questioned the title. It wasn't exactly an intimidating nickname.

He watched curiously as the woman's lips slowly spread into a confident smirk. This wasn't just her element, she wasn't just a regular, this woman owned this ring.

"Nothing Sharon can't handle." Natasha shook her head, "After she wins the Russians will approach her and that's our chance."

The announcer cleared the area and the two women squared off. Sharon was a whole head and a half taller than her opponent. It was way too loud to hear them speak to one another, but Clint could easily read Small Fry's lips from here.

_'Welcome to the Pit. This isn't personal.'_

* * *

The new girl hit the ground again, hard, and this time she couldn't beat the struggle to get up. She collapsed onto her shaking arms and I let out a sigh of relief. Blondie here was an actual challenge. If she kept it up for a few more minutes, I might've been the one to not get up.

"You did good, newbie. Keep it up." I spit out a mouth full of blood while the crowd cheered and passed out the winning bets. I walked over to offer her my hand. She turned her head to glare at me then pushed herself off the ground without even acknowledging my hand. Wow, ok rude. "Nobody likes a debbie downer!"

She ignored my words as she marched into the crowd. I brushed it off and moved to leave the ring. My ears were still ringing from a punch the girl managed to land on the side of my head, and my nose was still actively bleeding. Good news though, it didn't feel broken. If that wasn't a victory I don't know what was.

"Small Fry, I love you!" Some random guy cried in my direction. I spat blood at his feet before he took a step closer to me.

I didn't want to talk to anyone who stood around the ring watching me beat the shit out of other people. My night was officially over which meant it was time for ice, ibuprofen, and my pre-recorded episodes of _'Impractical Jokers'_.

My dumbass only got three steps closer to the backrooms when two men in suits slid into my view. The fact that I still thought I could leave this place easily was honestly just dumb. I was dumb. I was the dumbest girl to ever dumb.

"Small Fry?" One asked in a heavy Russian accent.

I groaned, "Yeah, I guess that's me. What?"

"We have a special proposition for you, little one." The other said.

The look on their faces told me I couldn't just spit blood at their feet and get them to leave me alone. I blew out a puff of air and shrugged, "I'm going to go to my hole in the wall to take off this blood-stained sports bra. I'm not talking to anyone before then."

"We-"

"I'm still wearing a blood-stained bra!" I interrupted him and slipped past them, "Meet me in Boss' office. It's around the corner. I think he has a mini fridge with drinks for all his shady best friends. Help yourself."

I marched on, and they didn't follow me to the back hallway. It was a dead-end hall with a few rooms coming off it. One was a bathroom, one was a room filled with security cameras and electrical shit, and one was a room just big enough for a couch and a gym bag with my stuff. The one good thing about being well known around here was the fact that everyone knew if they touched my shit or came into my self-proclaimed room I would _crazy_murder them.

The red door was already ajar and I pushed it open to see a guy lounging on _my_ratty ass couch and a woman digging though _my_gym bag.

"God, today is just a _shit_day." I scoffed, "What the fuck are y'all doing in here? Can I help you?"

The woman, with short fiery red hair, was dressed in a skin tight gold dress that showed off every curve she had. At my words, she dropped my bag onto the ground nonchalantly and quirked a single eyebrow up at me, "So… Small Fry. I haven't seen you around here before."

"Then you haven't been around here much." I scoffed and yanked my bag off the ground.

I hit the guy's legs with my bag forcing him to pull them off the couch so I could sit. He gave me a cheeky grin and I wondered if he had fought here tonight. There was a healing bruise at his dirty blond hairline and his lip was recently busted. Whereas the woman looked like a gorgeous supermodel, this guy looked like a beat-up hobo. Still, a somewhat good-looking hobo. As long as you looked past the injuries, which I was used to doing.

"You haven't been here the past week and a half." The woman crossed her arms.

I used a rag to clean off my face then began to peel the blood-stained tape off my hands, "Actually, haven't been here for the past three and a half weeks. As much as my boss likes me fighting, I can't do it with a fractured ankle."

"Fractured ankle?" The guy leaned over to look at my feet. The left one had a wrap around it to keep it stabilized, "How'd it happen?"

I grinned at him, showing my teeth in hopes that he took the smile more as a warning, "I got curb stomped. Wanna see how it feels?"

He chuckled, "I already know how that feels, tiny."

"How are you even fighting on it?" The woman tilted her head.

"I heal fast." I spat at her. My knuckles were starting to ache and I wished I had a bag of ice for them. Why were so many unknown people talking to me today? Why can't I just be at home right now? I popped a few pills into my mouth and then moved to undo the brace around my ankle. As soon as it was off that started to ache too.

God, I was just a walking ache.

"Well, we need to talk." The woman demanded.

"Aren't we already talking?" I grabbed my clean shirt and threw it on. Changing into a new bra wasn't going to happen right now apparently.

"You weren't supposed to win that last fight. Our agent was supposed to."

The words made me pause in the process of sliding my sweatpants on. Agent. She just used the word agent. I gave both of them another look. It was only then that I noticed they gave off a different kind of vibe from the usuals around here. Despite the woman looking like she just stepped off a runway she gave off a dangerous energy. Like she could easily take off her stripper heel and murder me with it without batting an eye. Even the guy, who was casually lounging on my couch, still held the body language of someone who was ready to leap into action if it was needed. His shoulders were tight and there was a slight edge to his grin and pretty blue-gray eyes.

If I hadn't been so distracted by being annoyed maybe I would've noticed it sooner.

"Who are you people?" I stood up, made sure my sweatpants were in place, and got ready for a fight if there was one to come. I wasn't exactly in the best position, but that was my own fault.

The guy chuckled and stood with his hands held up in mock surrender, "Calm down, we're not here to fight you. We actually need your help."

"We wouldn't need her help if she hadn't ruined everything." The woman scoffed.

"Well maybe you should've gotten a better fighter for the pit." I snapped.

The guy walked over and slung his arm around the stiff woman's shoulders, "Sharon actually is one of our best. So congrats there." He gave me a thumbs up and I narrowed my eyes in confusion. God, these people were weird. "Anyways… I'm Clint, this is Natasha, and we need you to help us trick some Russians."

I blinked, "You need me to _what_?"

"Trick some Russians." Clint said it slower and drew out each word as if I just simply didn't hear him. "It was supposed to be our person, but since you ruined that now we gotta scramble."

They were obviously talking about those two sketchy ass Russians who came up to me before I came in here. My tired mind tried to connect dots and clues while ignoring my screaming body who only wanted sleep and ice. They were using the word '_agent'_, they were definitely in some way dangerous, and they were fighting Russians?

"Yeah, ok." I shrugged and crossed my arms.

The Natasha woman narrowed her eyes at me and Clint just looked shocked. She shook her head, "Just like that."

"The way I see it, y'all are probably agents of that SHIELD agency or whatever. The one that's always on TV for something or another. Plus, those damn Russians looked like assholes, and I figure the faster I help you fools, the faster I can go home and pass out." The two of them shared a look, and I ignored it to continue, "So come on, what do you want me to do?"

Clint stepped closer with a grin, "What's your name, tiny?"

"Well it's _not_tiny." I rolled my eyes, "Aj. Call me Aj."

"Aj." Nat came closer and I could feel my body tense up. If anyone in this room was going to snap and kill me it was definitely her. She held out her hand and I hesitantly took the small disk she was trying to hand me. It was black and smaller than my nail. "We just need you to get this onto one of their phones. Stick it to the back and we'll do the rest."

I scoffed, "Yeah I'm sure they wont notice this."

"It'll do fancy techno stuff and turn invisible or some shit." Clint shrugged, "Just trust us."

I stared at the item in my hand, "Yeah, trust the two crazy people who broke into my changing room."

"This is a broom closet." Nat replied.

"Well, it's _my_broom closet." I mumbled and turned to leave.

Clint grabbed my arm, but he released it pretty quick. I wondered if he felt my entire body tense up at his touch. I didn't know this guy. If he tried to touch me again, agent or not, I would drop his ass, "I know you don't know us, and I know you don't have any weight in this, but this is important. We're trying to save someone."

How desperate were these people to turn to me for this? I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat, "No pressure or anything, right?"

"Some pressure." Clint smirked.

I sucked in a sharp breath before leaving the safety of my broom closet to deal with Russians. I really was the dumbest girl to ever dumb, damn it.

* * *

"This is a terrible idea." Natasha sighed as she watched the video on her phone. Aj had slipped into the cozy office space where the Russians sat waiting for her. If she could just get the tracer on their phone, Natasha could pull out all the information they needed.

Clint leaned into her so he could see the video as well, "She can do it."

The girl had a _'can do'_attitude about her that Clint appreciated. There was an energy in her, even after all her fights, that burned. He actually had faith that she could do this.

Although, he was known for being wrong time to time.

"Little one, nice of you to join us finally!"

Aj sat across from them with a shrug, "It's actually '_Small Fry'_, but damn you were _so_close. Now, what the fuck do you people want?"

The larger of the two large men grinned, "Straight to the point. I like this. We want you to come fight for us. In Russia."

"Well shit, I haven't updated my passport in years."

"That won't be necessary."

Clint chuckled to himself. With the way these people typically worked a passport wasn't needed because they'd put her ass on a cargo plane at 2 AM between a block of drugs and stolen tech.

"Well, what's in it for me?" Aj leaned back in her seat and crossed one leg over the other. She was in control of the room here, or at least she was putting out the vibe that she felt that way.

Natasha hummed to herself, "She's obviously untrained and rough around the edges, but there's something there."

"Admit it, you like her." Clint grinned.

The Russians looked back and forth to each other before the same one spoke, "Who needs more than the honor of representing us?"

"_Honor_?" Aj let out a bark of laughter, "Honor doesn't get me out of bed in the morning, gentlemen. Let's talk cold hard cash."

"Hmm." The Russian nodded, "You earn by the fight. 50K."

"For the whole night?"

"For each fight, little one."

Aj gave a slow blink before collecting herself, "Yeah. 50K a fight. That's- That's definitely my usual. Sounds fair." She grinned to herself before leaning forward in her seat. The next words out of her mouth were spoken in a crappy, fake Russian accent, "Plus, I've always wanted to go to Mother Russia and wrestle a bear!"

The Russians didn't look overly amused, but Clint burst out in laughter before turning to Natasha, "I like her a lot."

"Of course, you do."

"Stark would like her too."

Natasha smirked, "More reason to make sure she never meets him."

The three of them spoke a little longer before Aj started to pat at her sweatpants with a furrowed brow. She groaned, "Shit, my phone must be at home. Can I borrow yours?"

"You want my phone?" The Russian immediately sounded skeptical and Clint tensed.

Shit, maybe he had been wrong.

Aj rolled her eyes, "Yeah if I don't call Boss and let him know how tonight went immediately, he'll murder me and we'll never get to do shots of vodka together, _brother comrade_."

The Russians still seemed skeptical, but Aj was just shady enough in this setting that a weird level of trust could be given out to her. Clint tilted his head curiously. There was something about Aj he was still trying to figure out. He couldn't quite put his finger on it either, which annoyed him because he was usually very good at this. His job required him to be.

"She might pull this off." Natasha mumbled. Clint found himself rooting for Aj, and it wasn't just because their favor for Steve was on the line.

* * *

The Russian guy, who still hadn't given his name don't think I hadn't noticed, handed me his phone with a skeptical look. I winked at him and prayed that Clint guy hadn't exaggerated about the invisible qualities of this magic techno sticker or whatever. I stuck the flat disc onto the back of the phone as it was put into my palm and quickly started to type out Boss number.

It rang twice and then his creepy, annoying voice answered, "Who is this?"

"Me. I'm not dead." I replied.

"I don't quite like that tone, _pet_." He spat.

"Does this mean it's a bad time to ask you to sign my permission slip to go to Russia and fight bears?"

Before he could start barking at me I leaned across the table and gave the phone back to the confused Russian who answered. They spoke for a few minutes, and I knew Boss was figuring out a way to get the money from these fights. I was still mentally considering running away in Russia. That was a feasible thing right? I could fake my death. Poor Small Fry was eaten alive by a vodka fueled bear. Honestly, I had a weird amount of Russian themed jokes in my mind, and a good amount of them were kind of stigma based. Luckily the Russians hadn't killed me for them yet. That was cool.

The Russian hung up, "Your boss is ok with you fighting for us."

"Boss would send me to Mars if it meant he might make a penny off me." I shrugged and stood. "So? When's my flight?"

"We will come to you."

I rolled my eyes, "Ok vague. Later, gators."

Without waiting for another word I breezed out of the room to head back to grab my bag. I wondered if the two agents would still be there or if they bailed. I suppose they'd need to know how this went, but I assumed they had eyes around to see it. Boss had cameras all over this place and if they could hack into a Russian's secret phone I'm sure they could hack into a cheap security camera.

"Not half bad, tiny." Clint's voice caught me off guard. He slipped his arm through mine and pulled me toward the exit. I let him, and once we hit the cold New York air he spoke again, "You actually pulled it off."

"Despite the rumors, I am quite incredible."

Nat leaned against the alley way brick wall with my gym bag in hand, "It was a surprise to all of us."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Wendy." I mocked her colorful hair. It reminded me that I was starving. She handed me my bag with a shake of her head. Also didn't get murdered for mocking the dangerous agent. Man, I was on fire tonight.

"Go home and get some rest. We'll see you in the morning." Clint grinned.

"Morning?" I wrapped the bag around my shoulders, "I have to see you people again?"

Clint gave my head a pat, "We have to make sure the Russians don't murder you once they find out some information has been hacked."

I tilted my head, "You conveniently didn't mention the death thing before I did this."

Nat looked me up and down with confusion, "You don't sound as concerned as someone should."

"Have you seen my career?" I raised an eyebrow at her, "And now I'm gonna walk home in the dark to where I live above a drug dealer and next to an exotic animal zoo."

Clint grinned, "Exotic animal zoo?"

"Don't ask." I held a hand up and started to walk away. Maybe I should be more worried about homicidal Russians, but honestly I was just too tired. Tired from the fights. Tired of the Pit. Tired of Boss. Just tired. "Guess I'll see y'all bright and early."

I didn't bother telling them where I lived. I'm sure they had their sources.

"Just try not to get yourself killed before we see you again." Nat called after me.

"Hah. I'm not that lucky."


End file.
